


Coming home

by redxnmyledger (YouAreMyMuse)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blushing Alistair (Dragon Age), Dark Alistair (Dragon Age), F/M, Hardened Alistair (Dragon Age), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexy Alistair (Dragon Age), Warden Amell (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyMuse/pseuds/redxnmyledger
Summary: Sometimes you can't help it. Sometimes you want to forget. But sometimes you just need someone who you can call home.
Relationships: Alistair & Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Amell (Dragon Age), Alistair/Mage(s) (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 9





	Coming home

**Author's Note:**

> This was not one of my best summaries, I'll admit.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or their characters/lore/story.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. I think we all have a thing for this sweet puppy. I tried to keep my female Amell without description except for the hair, so anyone can immerse themselves in the story. 
> 
> I'm planning on writing more fanfics about Alistair and Marvel related fics. So, if you want one, you can write me a message! I do not asked anything but if you want to support my writing and my economic situation, I could give you my Ko-fi! Thank you in advance. Anyway, enjoy my stories!

The sunset turned the sky into a purple mantle that covered Denerim. The voices of the last merchants in the market echoed in the void. It could be possible to hear a fainted reminder of the Elf Alienage.

Another day passed.

He sighed and looked at his cup of wine, twirling it so the liquid caressed the inside. He was wearing simpler clothes than he was used to, the mantle long forgotten in his wooden chest, in the room. It was a weight on his shoulders he did not want to carry. At least not when he had the opportunity to be alone.

Claiming Ferelden’s throne had never been in his mind. In his own opinion, he was the last person capable of giving orders. Or leading. Maker, he didn’t even feel capable to lead the Mabari during his Blight days. And yet, it seems that it had not been his choice. It never was. Neither was his marriage to Anora.

Anora.

He snorted as he thought of his wife, emptying the cup before filling it again. The sweet smell of wine calmed his senses and he leant against the stone banister. One of the rooms near his had the windows open and he could hear the maids talking and chuckling, trying to muffle their sounds. He smiled at it, trying to remember when everything was easier. When he was a child, running down the halls of Redcliffe, or when he was a young man, training to be a templar.

His mind wandered to his wife again. Anora. How could someone describe Anora? Well, she was ambitious. She was determined and knew how she wanted things to be done. And she knew how to have them done. She was strong and she knew how to rule a country, that was out of question. Actually, she had been doing it for years while she was married to Cailan.

Yet, he didn’t like her. They got on well in the end, after a quite…difficult start in their marriage. The idea of beheading her father was a tricky matter. Yet, in the end he had learnt plenty of qualities from her and Eamon. How to rule, how to be a tactician. He could be well-versed in war and battlefield, but she was an expert politician and she knew how to manipulate those arrogant noble people to act on Ferelden’s benefit. He had to admit that.

She was good.

They were not close friends. But they respected each other and tried to improve their relationship. They would never be lovers, they both knew that. But the alliance had been better than they had expected.

Up to this time, he was still confused with her decision. The night he had come to his chambers and asked him to marry Anora if he wanted to go on with his birthright as Maric’s son and Ferelden’s heir. He had been astonished and he remembered himself standing in the middle of the room, the fire with a glowing orange light that outlined her figure, leaning against the fireplace. Maker, it seemed her ginger hair was on fire too.

“Don’t you…don’t you love me?”

Oh, sweet Andraste. The deeply sad smile she had forced in her beautiful lips. The way her shiny eyes had gone over his own face, as if he were still a child who needed to learn more about the real world. Probably that was the most probable option.

“I’m doing this because I love you, idiot” she replied with a faint voice and a playful tone. “Do you think you’d be allowed to marry someone…well, someone like _me_?”

Yes, he was an idiot. An idiot in love who thought that would be enough. But sometimes, desire was not enough. And then Morrigan’s thing had come. Maker, he hated when his mind wandered to that night.

What he remembered perfectly was him going back to his own chamber, finding her sitting on the bed, back against the headboard and hugging her knees. Seeing her like that broke his heart. His mind was blank, and he just approached the bed, laying on the soft mattress, too good to be real, after years of sleeping on a bedroll or the ground. She just laid by his side and opened her arms, as she always did, welcoming him. Her whole body surrounded him, and her hands rubbed his hair the way he loved.

They had made love. Slowly. Intimately. He wanted to erase every single rest of Morrigan’s touch. And she was the only one capable of doing that. Nobody knew what would happen. Would they defeat the Archdemon? Would they survive? Or would the world immerse in a future of darkness and despair?

If they had to die, at least they would live first. Together.

At first, he had his doubts about keeping her as his…Maker, he hated that word. Mistress. She did not deserve that. He wanted to be with her, marry her. Yet, she had been terribly pragmatic as always. Even Anora agreed with the deal, claiming Cailan had his own lovers. At least she would like this one.

It was done.

The arranged marriage was made public in the Landsmeet, after she had defeated Anora’s father, punishing him for his crimes. He thought about Loghain sometimes. He had betrayed his king and fellow warriors. He had committed treason. And yet, he had been helpful and valuable to Ferelden for years. Time had passed and he sometimes considered if it was the right thing to do.

He had made a speech and promised to come back to marry Anora after fighting the Blight. Everyone had celebrated the coronation of a Theirin heir. But his mind was not on the speech or the people who listened to him. He was like a tranquil, repeating the words that had been handed to him. His eyes wandered on those surrounding him, looking for his companions.

But they were nowhere in sight. And that broke his heart. Specially when it came to her.

He was alone in this.

Yet, he didn’t blame them. His companions had followed _her_ to the fight. She was the natural leader, a sweet-caring woman with the rage of a dragon that could sew a mouth with her magic, a simple movement of her long fingers. She loved him, and he understood it was not easy to her to watch the man she loved marrying another woman, even if their relationship was going to continue.

He sighed and heard a soft knock on his door, followed by the creaking of the wood. He didn’t turn. It was probably Helena or one of the maids with his dinner.

“Leave it on the table. I’m not that hungry now”

_But a king must be strong and healthy. You must eat something._

He could hear Eamon’s and Teagan’s voice in his mind. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts while the sun started to disappear in the horizon. The night was calm and silent. And that was when he noticed.

Too silent.

He had not heard the maid leaving the room and a shiver ran down his spine. His hand left the cup of wine with deliberate movements and went for the dagger in his belt, prepared to defend himself from the threat. Even if he was not a fighter anymore, he was still skilled and prepared. Strong and fast, ready to attack.

Suddenly, a painless aura seemed to envelop his body and he discovered with fear that he couldn’t move a single inch. He tried to resist, to wriggle and escape from that magic prison. Maker’s sake, he hated that. Magic was something that kind of admired but feared, knowing he could be powerless in a battle with a mage.

Then he heard it. A chuckle.

_Her_ chuckle.

“Alistair Theirin. I’m surprised you let me defeat you so easily” Her voice. Soft like silk sheets. Like a Sunday morning with the sun peeking through the curtains. Even in his state, without looking at her, Alistair could notice she was grinning.

“Eyra” The feeling of her magic surrounding him disappeared and he sighed, rubbing his muscles before turning.

There she was. With her light purple tattoos on her face. Her red hair framing her beautiful features and her clothes, typical of a mage. She never felt comfortable with the heavy Grey Wardens clothes. She always said they made her feel slow.

Memories hit him as if someone had punched him in the stomach. The first time he saw her when she was a mere recruit, brought by Duncan from the Circle after doing only the Maker knew what. The way they had survived, how he had hugged her when she appeared from the inside of Flemeth’s house. Camp nights, telling stories and mocking the other.

Their first kiss. Their first…Oh, _sweet Maker._

Eyra approached the man with a smile and the air was cut from their lungs. Even if she kept her façade, she was as nervous as he was. It had been too many years. A long time separated from each other.

“I…I…” he stuttered, and she laughed, watching as blush crept from his neck to his cheeks before his lips twitched in that boyish smile she loved. The way she could make him nervous was unbelievable.

“You…you” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest before Alistair ran and picked her up, making her to scream. “Alistair, no!”

They twirled and laughed, not caring about anybody hearing them. They knew. Everybody knew about their king being in love with the Commander of the Grey Wardens and they did not care. Anora and him were good, so what?

“I can’t believe you are here!” he exclaimed, burying his fingers and face on her hair. She still smelled like blueberries. “Unless I fell from the balcony and I hit my head. That could be a possible reason as well”

“It seems you are the same idiot I left here” Eyra replied with a smile, nuzzling her face on his shoulder, resting her body against his. His hands went to her waist and he chuckled, the vibrations rumbling against her chest.

“C’mon. You love it”

“Just because I have no choice with you it doesn’t mean I love you”

“Ahhhhhh, you said it. You said you love me” Alistair started to pinch her and hit her with his index finger, only for her to laugh and try to escape from his strong grip.

“Maker’s breath, you’re the king of Ferelden. Behave!”

“That’s why I can allow myself to misbehave”

“You are unsufferable” She replied, and Alistair stared at her. The last sunrays made her hair shine. It was like a fire, threatening to consume him all. Her sweet smile and her lovely eyes on his own. “How you have you been here?”

“A few hours”

“What? And you didn’t come to see me?”

“I was having tea with Anora”

Alistair’s face was priceless at this information and Eyra chuckled, walking inside the room and taking off his cloak, tossing it on a chair. The man followed her like a puppy, and he moved his hands in an exaggerated manner.

“Are you telling me you went to have tea with _my_ wife before coming to see _me_?” Eyra bit her lip and nodded, smiling like a child. Alistair huffed and feigned indignation. “My wife and my lover together! I can’t believe! Having tea and pastries without _me_ ”

“Don’t forget the cake, dear”

“Of course! You had cake without me! I despise you, Mage” he added with a voice that was intended to sound cruel and mischievous but failed in the attempt.

Both women had forged a bond over the years. Eyra had admitted Anora’s qualities as a queen and Anora was surprised with her work as the Commander of the Grey Wardens and her title as Arlessa of Amaranthine. When some political matters had to be discussed, Eyra usually went to Anora and the queen looked for her advice when necessary. All of this under the astonished gaze of Alistair, who could not believe it.

“Cailan had his affairs, dear” Anora had said one night they were having dinner together. “I don’t mind you having one. Especially if you truly love her. I can’t blame you and this political situation. Besides, she’s an exquisite person. A natural leader and an incredibly talented mage”

Maker, he had not only one but two pragmatical women.

“Did you even bring me a piece, at least?” Eyra pointed at the tray with her head and Alistair grinned like a child. “Andraste’s breath, I love you. Did I say that? Yes? Good”

“You love me because I brought you cake?”

“AND cheese!” Alistair exclaimed, raising his plate before taking a mouthful of food, much to Eyra’s disgust.

“Honestly, my mabari has better manners than you while eating”

“But I smell better”

“Well” Eyra scrunched her nose. “You are levelled with him”

“Hey! Don’t hurt my manly feelings, you woman!” Eyra raised her hands, smiling and took the fork to grab some food.

Time passed and both enjoyed a delightful dinner. It was summer and the balcony’s door was open, allowing the soft night breeze coming into the room. The candles lightened Eyra’s face and made her eyes shine with sparkles. Even her tattoos seemed brighter. Alistair had his chin on his hand, listening to her stories about how she had wandered around the world.

“Honestly, I thought that beast was going to bite me” she finished with a chuckle, shaking her head and taking her cup to drink. Before it took her lips, Eyra smiled sweetly at her lover’s gaze. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…I missed this. I missed you” Alistair grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles, one by one, making her giggling. His brown eyes looked at her intensely. “Did you…come here to tell something about…?

He didn’t even finish the sentence before she shook her head. Eyra already knew what the question was. The reason why she had left Amaranthine to go all over Thedas. The reason why Alistair and the mage had been separated for years.

He knew he was pressured to have a child. An heir to the Theirin legacy. A new king or queen of Ferelden. Yet, with the taint, it was difficult. He had tried several times, even if he avoided Anora’s chambers as much as he could. Yet, it was useless. She was not pregnant.

Alistair remember their wedding night. He was nervous, sweaty, and the looks she was giving him didn’t help. He didn’t want to sleep with Anora, he wanted to sleep with Eyra. Still, his wife talked to him, trying to calm him down enough to perform his duty. And he did, with a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

“I’m sorry, my love” Eyra muttered in a mere whisper. Alistair’s eyes softened and he leant to press a kiss to her forehead.

“It’s not your fault. You will do it. If someone can, it’s you. I still remember our days in the party, from one side of Ferelden to the other, fighting darkspawns and monsters and dragon and you were the sweetest girl I’ve ever met” Eyra smiled softly, leaning against his shoulder. She loved the sound of his voice. “And you were always caring for us. Protecting us”

“And trying to stop Morrigan and you from killing each other”

“Oh, and do you remember when I felt jealous of your mabari?”

“What?” Eyra frowned and observed Alistair’s face turning crimson. Her mouth opened and she squealed. “Andraste’s breath! You were jealous of a dog!”

“No, I…did I say that? No, no. Of course not” Alistair coughed and tried to cover his blush with his cup, while Eyra held her head with her hand, grinning at him. “Okay, fine! _Maybe_ I was a bit jealous of your dog. I mean, he could sleep with you!”

Eyra laughed heartily until tears rolled down her cheeks and her stomach hurt. Alistair had his arms crossed over his chest, staring at her with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry. It’s just so funny. It seems they were right”

“What? Who?”

“Leliana, Zevran, Morrigan…” she counted with her fingers and Alistair slapped his face, shaking his head.

“Maker…I’m embarrassing myself”

“Yeah, well. That’s part of your charm, I guess”

“Is that so? Well, then…” Effortlessly, he grabbed Eyra and placed her over his lap, with her legs on the sides. He nuzzled his nose against hers, smiling. “Tell me, what other charms are irresistible to you”

“I didn’t say you were irresistible”

“You don’t have to. I can see it over your beautiful puppy eyes when you look at me”

Eyra sighed when he wriggled his eyebrows, his smile always in his lips. She chuckled and put both arms around his neck, lowering her voice while biting her lip. It had been a long time since they held each other. It was like an echo of another time. Their bodies had memory and remembered every single kiss and touch. And sweet Andraste, how much they had missed it.

Alistair’s hands cupped both of her cheeks and she leant, closing her eyes and enjoying that feeling. He stared at her, mesmerized, trying to memorise every single feature of her for when she left. Unable to hold himself any longer, he leant and pressed his lips against hers, a soft, delicate, and feather-like kiss that made their heads to spin. They felt dizzy as their mouth moved in a non-spoken agreement.

“Eyra…” he muttered when they moved back, breathing each other’s air and staring at their eyes, blown with not-so-subtle lust. The mage kissed the tip of his nose and moved over his jaw, feeling Alistair’s hands gripping his waist. When she reached his earlobe and licked it, he groaned and stood up, forcing her to stand.

His brown eyes looking at her as he walked until her knees hit the massive mattress. Even if time had passed and he was no longer a warrior, Alistair was still strong and could lift her without problem. Eyra bit her lip, just to tease him and his eyes followed the movement, tongue licking his own lips. His breath was ragged, as if he had been fighting darkspawn for hours.

Eyra went to unlace her shirt but his hand, bigger than her own, stopped her.

“No, I want to do it”

She smiled and nodded, letting her arms hang by her sides, observing his movements. They were deliberated, slow, enjoying every inch of skin displayed to him. His calloused hands caressed it before replacing them with his soft lips, peppering kisses over her jaw and neck, nipping and biting. Eyra’s breath hitched and soon her upper part was bare except for her breast band. Alistair frowned and stared at the cloth.

“I still hate that”

The woman chuckled and shook her head, feeling his hands caressing her hips, circling the skin with his thumbs. Soon they moved upwards, where her breasts were craving for his attention. Alistair bit the tender skin between the neck and the shoulder, and she gasped, noticing his smile against her skin. Her hands buried in that hair she loved and pressed his body against hers.

Soon the knot that held the band together and tossed it on the floor, staring at her body with admiration. To Alistair, not even Andraste could compare to his lover. She smiled shyly, as she did the first time they slept together inside her tent.

He felt a twitch in his heart, the memory of his camp nights still fresh in his mind. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had left with the Grey Wardens, being her second-on-charge.

“Are you going to stay there all night, or will you do something?” she teased, biting her lip and wiggling her hips so the rest of her clothes fell, leaving her bare in front of him. Alistair felt his throat dry and swallowed hard. “Yet, I think it’s not fair that you are still dressed”

“No? Well, I’m the king here, and I think I might deserve having a little bit of advantage” he winked, and she punched him in the shoulder playfully before she started to undress him.

His broad chest was still tanned and strong. He had some scars here and there, the results of his time as a Grey Warden with Duncan and the travelling he had done with Eyra and the rest of the companions. He had some chest hair down his navel, where his breeches started. Alistair picked her up and placed her on the mattress, straddling her hips. He peppered his neck with kisses while his hands went to her breasts, touching and caressing them. Eyra gasped when his thumbs circled her nipples and arched her back.

“So sensitive. As always.” he grinned against her skin and lowered his head, capturing her nipple with his mouth, making her moan. “I miss those sounds. The softness of your skin…” Eyra pulled at his hair, placing her legs around his waist. His clothed length rubbed against her thigh and she felt her mind going blank. “I wonder…If I can make you come as I used to…”

Alistair’s wicked smile remained in his features as he went down her body, pressing kisses on her skin. Eyra knew where this was going, so her head hit the pillows, biting her lower lip. His hands caressed her thighs almost tenderly, peppering kisses all over the skin until his breath fanned against her folds.

“Oh, sweet Maker…I missed this”

Before Eyra had a chance to reply, he pressed his tongue against her clit, circling slowly, teasingly. His calloused fingers caressed her wet folds while his free arm forced her waist to the mattress. The mage huffed and writhed, letting small whimpers escape her throat.

“Alistair…” she muttered, grabbing and pulling his hair with both hands.

“I love when you say my name, my dear”

She moaned and tried to get free from his grip, only to be stronger. Alistair moved his head both sides, tapping and licking. Eyra screamed his name when she felt two fingers inside her, looking for that spot that made her mind go blank. In a few minutes, that man had the Commander of the Grey Wardens begging for release, which he gladly complied. The knot in her stomach tightened and her legs shook around Alistair’s head. His brown eyes observed her, not wanting to miss a single thing.

And oh, how he loved watching her come like that, eyes shut and hands gripping the sheets as if her life depended on it. Her chest moved as she tried to catch her breath and he rode her orgasm until she couldn’t take it any longer. When Alistair moved away, his chin was covered with her fluids and Eyra felt her whole body burning in shame.

“Oh, Maker. Are _you_ blushing? The great Hero of Ferelden?”

“Stop mocking me” she replied with her muffled voice, as she had covered her face. He laughed and kissed her body, cupping her face.

“It was beautiful. You are beautiful”

Eyra Amell felt the sting of tears on her eyes and closed them when their lips touched. Her hands caressed his back, feeling his taut muscles. Soon they moved down the spine, raising goosebumps under the touch until they reached his ass, grabbing it.

“Hey!” Alistair shrieked with a smirk, making her laugh.

“Stop complaining, you love it” she replied, pecking at his nose before helping him remove his breeches. He stood there, kneeling by her side and Eyra couldn’t stop herself.

She pushed him until he fell on the mattress, his gaze following every single movement. She smirked and straddled him, rubbing her core against his length. Alistair gasped and grabbed her hips. Eyra placed her hands on his broad chest and, without taking his eyes off him, sank herself to the hilt. Slowly, intimately. The only sounds in the room where their breaths, rhythmic and ragged. Alistair groaned when he filled her completely.

“Maker…” he muttered, feeling his head dizzy at the feeling of her warm inside around him. “It’s been a long time…”

“Too long” said Eyra with a croaked voice, rocking her hips.

It took her a while to get used to it, but soon they moved at unison. Their bodies were like a puzzle that fit perfectly. The moans, the sweat, rolling down their bodies. The movements were deliberated, slow. They had all night to feel each other, taste each other. There was no need to rush.

His feet were on the mattress and his hips moved to meet her movements. They became faster, harder. Skin slapping skin, the sound echoing in the room. Moans, whimpers and soft words of love. Everything they wanted to say and couldn’t over the years. In that moment, they were no longer king and commander. They were just to lovers, as they were in their tents.

Eyra’s nails dragged lines over his shoulder and Alistair sat down, circling her body with his arms. His forehead against hers. One of his hands went to his small bundle of nerves and her body tensed. He knew she was close. She could feel it.

“C’mon, my love…oh, sweet Andraste…”

He pumped his hips faster and her body shivered while pleasure ran over her veins. She closed her eyes and Alistair kissed her, swallowing her moans. Her hands pulled his hair and he felt himself coming inside her, shuddering.

“Alistair…” she muttered with half-lidded eyes, peppering kisses over his face.

Without saying a word, they laid down and covered themselves with the mattress, caressing each other and making the other laugh. The following day they would have to remain serious and professional. And soon, she would leave again.

For now, that was not important. They had each other in their arms.


End file.
